


intimacy

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, a shameless amount of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 09:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15361572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: “Hmm,” says Shaw, settling back into Root’s arms, and decides that the bad guys can wait just a little.(five moments between root and shaw, in a slightly happier 'verse)





	intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> no clue if this even fits into canon; i just wanted to write root and shaw being soft And Thus I Did

i.

Root does get like a sleepy cat in the sunlight, right down to the contented purring and the languid stretching and her fucking intolerable habit of lying down on someone’s lap, getting comfortable, and then _not getting up._ Shaw kicks her legs a little, but Root just hums happily and snuggles her head into the crook of Shaw’s neck, pressing a sleepy little kiss there.

“Root,” says Shaw. “Root. I want to get up. _Root._ ”

“You know you could just—move her, right?” suggests Reese with a small, amused smirk on his face. That bastard knows Root gets all pouty if she gets jostled mid-nap, and definitely if she’s removed from Shaw before she wants to be. “She’s a grown woman, Shaw.”

“Shut up,” says Shaw, and kisses the top of Root’s head. _Angrily._

* * *

 

ii.

It’s the pounding on the door that wakes Shaw, and she’s about to spring into action when she realizes Root’s arms are wrapped tightly and contentedly around her waist. Craning her neck over her shoulder to look, she sees Root wide awake, smiling sweetly. “Hey, Sameen,” she says. “I think they found the safe house.”

“I kinda figured that,” says Shaw. “Can you just—” She makes a vague gesture that’s somehow both _let go of me so I can kick some bad guys_ and  _this is really nice, let’s stay here._

“Indecisive, sweetie?” Root kisses the soft spot under Shaw’s earlobe, right where her jaw begins.

“Not exactly,” says Shaw. “I think we should get going.”

“I’m comfortable,” says Root, in the voice she uses when she’s being Difficult with a capital D. Of fucking _course_ Root is comfortable when there are heavily armed guys ready and waiting to kick their asses—and strangely, that train of thought leads Shaw to smile, just a little, as she reaches down to her stomach, Root’s hands clasped there all protective and stuff. Like Shaw needs protecting from anything.

“Hmm,” says Shaw, settling back into Root’s arms, and decides that the bad guys can wait just a little. They’ve had a bunch of wake-up calls like this; this isn’t exactly anything new.

* * *

 

iii.

“Whatcha making?” Root’s arms slide around Shaw’s waist as she peers over her shoulder with wide-eyed interest. Root reminds Shaw of a little kid, sometimes—all emotions spilling over without much thought regarding which ones she wants to hide. Root doesn’t hide anything. Shaw likes that.

“Haven’t decided,” says Shaw, “and I can’t do it with you hangin’ round like a barnacle.”

“A good chef can always work around obstacles,” says Root seriously. “Haven’t you ever seen Cutthroat Kitchen?”

Shaw rolls her eyes, leaning back into Root. “You’re gonna get yourself cut once I get out the knives—”

“Kinky.”

“Kitchen safety isn’t _kinky,”_ says Shaw, turning her head so that Root can kiss her—one, feather-light, on the nose, and one on the mouth. “And if I left you alone, you’d just eat Lucky Charms from the box and spend the whole day hanging out with the Machine.”

“Hmm,” says Root, “guess you’ll have to take care of me.”

Shaw smiles a little and reaches for an orange; she thinks she’ll make Root a smoothie.

* * *

iv.

“Hey,” says Root, poking Shaw’s shoulder. Shaw, who was looking forward to some undisturbed sleep, groans and tries to cover her head with the pillow, but Root pulls it off, straddles her, and starts covering her face with kisses to keep her awake. “Hey Sameen Sameen hey _Sameen—_ ”

“It is one o’clock in the damn morning,” says Shaw to the ceiling.

“Sameen,” says Root, rolling off Shaw, tossing an arm possessively across Shaw’s stomach, “do you ever wonder if we saw each other before we _saw_ each other? Like I was thinking about it and I’m eighty to ninety percent sure that one time I saw Carter getting a taco before I knew—well—that she was Carter, and then I started thinking, how romantic would it be if we bumped into each other three years before I ziptied you to a chair and tried to torture you?”

“Jesus,” says Shaw, then, “I’d have remembered you, Root. Go back to sleep.”

“You think you’d have remembered me?” Root sighs, all dreamy-sweet. “Sameen Shaw, you absolute romantic.”

Shaw doesn’t feel romantic, just sleepy and vaguely annoyed and safe (an unusual feeling to go hand-in-hand with being this close to Root, but it’s always the one she knows). “Go to _sleep,”_ she says, and rolls onto her side, closing her eyes.

“I know I’d have remembered you,” Root’s saying as Shaw drifts off. “I know it. I think I’d know you anywhere, even before I knew you, you know?” Root always does get sentimental when she’s falling asleep. Shaw likes that. Shaw likes many, many things about Root.

* * *

 

v.

Root hisses as Shaw removes her jacket, but still tries to smile through gritted teeth. “It’s not too bad,” she says. “It’s really not too bad.”

It is bad. It’s bad enough to hurt more than just a little, but Shaw is capable and competent and Shaw knows how to keep her girl steady. “Hey, c’mere,” she says, and catches Root’s face in her hands, kissing her softly. “Come on. Stay looking at me, Root, okay?”

“Okay,” says Root, her voice strained and thin.

Shaw pushes up the bloody hem of Root’s tank top, then looks up at Root, then reaches out and takes Root’s hand, holding it close to her chest as she works. She feels Root’s grip tighten around hers. “I’ve got you,” she says. “I’m holding you steady.”

“It really hurts, though,” says Root, and manages a wobbly laugh.

Shaw thinks that after she’s done patching Root up, they’re going to watch one of those dumb movies on the couch that Root loves. Root always gets so happy when she and Shaw watch a movie together (“it’s like a date,” she always says, giggly, “but in our living room!”) and it’ll be enough of a distraction to keep Root’s mind off the pain. She looks up and into Root’s eyes. “I’ve got you,” she says again, and for some reason or another Root’s smile in return is so breathtakingly bright—like art, Shaw thinks. Something that should be painted and preserved and saved for a rainy day.

“I know,” says Root. “You’ve always, always got me.”


End file.
